The Case of the Crimson Cravat
by lance2
Summary: Weird plot...lot's of insanity...R&R! No flames please! :)
1. Part 1

Prologue  
  
Monsieur l'Inspector, alias Javert, a.k.a. Snookums, scanned the report lazily. After reading it, he screwed it up and tossed it into the fireplace that he had been standing near. It was one of those disposable notices. He would have filed it otherwise. He turned his back to the fire, and regarded the young messenger in front of him with a eagle eye glare. The young man quailed slightly. "Um...good news... sir?"  
  
"None of your business." Javert snapped.  
  
"...do you want me to send a reply, sir?"  
  
Javert thought for a while before answering. "No. I can handle this myself. You are dismissed."  
  
The young man turned to scarper, but half turned back, his eyes wide with fear. He licked his lips nervously and stared at the fire to which Javert had turned his back too. "Sir..."  
  
"What is it now?" Javert sighed exasperatedly.  
  
"...Your coat's on fire, sir."  
  
Chapter 1 : [DEL: Red :DEL] White and Black  
  
Ignoring the laughter that followed him wherever he went, Javert strode through the streets of Paris, still in his charred greatcoat. Damned Washerwoman didn't have the time to wash his coat, be it government property or not. He glanced at the address he had written on another scrap of paper. Monsieur Marius, Apartment 3, Flat 5 on the Rue de l'Aville. Well, he had the right house. Javert pulled his coat further around himself, ignoring the charred pieces that crumbled off in his hand, and entered the house.  
  
Climbing the stairs, Javert wondered why The Prefect had assigned him such a nonsensical and stupid case. The Case Of The Crimson Cravat... he shook his head and left it at that.  
  
Finally, he reached apartment 5. He rapped on the door, and stood back. The door was opened by Enjolras. Javert frowned. "Oh.. wrong house, sorry..." he turned to go.  
  
"Wait!" Enjolras called. "Are you here about..." he swallowed nervously, "...the cravat?" he enquired under his breath, in a whisper.  
  
Javert scowled. "I'm afraid I am. Is Monsieur Marius in?"  
  
Enjolras opened the door wider to let him in. "Yesyesyes. Come in quick, before someone sees."  
  
"OH IT WAS HORRIFIC!" Marius sobbed into Enjolras' shoulder as he told his tale to Javert. Scattered liberally around the room were the other students, who were either lounging around or (in R's case,) drinking. "Last week, I put my only white cravat in the wash, and when I took it out today...oh the horror! IT WAS PIIIIIINK!"  
  
Javert silenced the multiple laughs that were echoing in the room with his trademark piercing stare. "Pink, you say?"  
  
"Pink! Pink! As in hot pink, as in neon spray paint pink, as in cherry pink, as in pearly pink, as in not blue, not green, not orange, not black, as in PINK!" Marius howled, sobbing.  
  
Javert rolled his eyes. It was obvious what had happened. "Monsieur, do you own any red items of clothing?"  
  
"Red? Red he says!" Marius said scornfully. "What kind of person do you take me for? I only ever wear white and black. Have you seen me in anything else? I'm not like Valjean y'know. I don't keep changing my clothes!"  
  
Enjolras gave him a look.  
  
"Oh, don't be so stupid!" Marius snapped. "Of course I change... just - just- " he broke off, not knowing how to put it. "Oh, just follow me."  
  
He led Javert into his bedroom and opened the wardrobe. On the hanger were rows of black and white clothes. There wasn't a singular coloured item in there. Javert scribbled a few things onto a notepad. "I see. May I ask what you were doing on the fateful evening?" he inquired.  
  
"Oh yes, I remember it clearly. Grantaire threw a mad party."  
  
"Where?"  
  
"Here. Seeing that his house consisted of a bed, a toilet and cupboards full of drink, he held it here in our place."  
  
"Our?"  
  
"Yep. Enjolras lives here too."  
  
"I see." Javert scribbled a few more lines. "Well. May I talk to your associates?"  
  
Marius looked blank. "Assosci- whats?"  
  
"Your friends, out there, Monsieur."  
  
"Ah. Of course. Go ahead."   
  
Chapter 2 : The Interviews.   
  
Note: The conversations between the Students and Javert below is as written by Javert in that little pad.   
  
Interviewee 1  
  
Name?: Joly   
  
Address?: 66 Rue De Farine. I share an apartment with Lesgles.   
  
What were you doing on the night of the party?: Um... partying?   
  
Did you see the cravat at any time?: Oh yes. Twice.  
  
What colour was it the first time?: White   
  
And the second? A horrible crimson colour.   
  
Where were you when you saw it last?: In the kitchen   
  
Were you drunk?: Sort of. I can't drink lots because it brings on my strange heart palpitations.   
  
Okay...: Oh, don't scorn it. It's a veeeery serious disease! I could DIE!   
  
Have you any comments?: Um... I'm never going to drink Red bull again. Whatever they tell you, it doesn't give you wings. It just gives you a serious disease. I've got it. It's called Corriumblitus.   
  
I can't say I've heard of it before...: No, I'm the only one who's got it, because of my unique blood type and hair follicle shape combination. Don't look at me like that! It's true I tell you!   
  
Interviewee 2   
  
Name?: Lesgle, Laigle, Laigle De Meaux or Bossuet. Take your pick.   
  
Address?: 66 Rue De Farine.   
  
What were you doing on the night of the party?: Ugh... I don't remember.   
  
Did you see the cravat at any time?: Hazily.   
  
What colour was it? : Green.   
  
Where were you?: on the roof... for some absurd reason...   
  
I don't suppose I need to even ask if you were drunk.: Duh. No.   
  
Have you any comments? About the case?: Nope.   
  
I'm sorry to hear about your friend.: Eh?   
  
Jolly. : You mean Joly.   
  
Yeah. He's dying. : Oh, no he isn't. If we believed him back in '23 when he said he had Imbithlicusia, he'd have died the next day. Then we realized he'd just reread his medicinal dictionary and made it all up. He's a hypochondriac.   
  
Oh God. : Exactly.   
  
Interviewee 3   
  
Name?: Enjolras.   
  
Address?: Here. Duh.   
  
What were you doing on the night of the party?: shooting blackbirds with my carbine.   
  
You know that is a punishable offence. : ... *silence* ...what is?   
  
Carrying a firearm and shooting fauna. : Um... did I say my name was Enjolras? I meant... my name's Sid.   
  
Okay... Sid...Were you even at the party?: Yes.   
  
Did you see the cravat? : No.   
  
Were you drunk?: *gasp* what type of revolutionary leader do you take me for?   
  
Have you any comments? : Yes. Enjolras has left the country. And he wasn't shooting blackbirds. Nope, not he. And he actually only owns a cap gun. Those birds were falling out of the sky by their own accord.   
  
Interviewee 4   
  
Name?: Jean Prouvaire   
  
Address? 34, Rue de Doicelle   
  
What were you doing on the night of the party?: Everything and nothing.   
  
Did you see The Cravat?: Yes and no.   
  
Can you be more explicit?: Yes and no.   
  
Can you give a one word answer? : No.   
  
Are you always so self-contradicting?: No.   
  
Thank god. So you didn't see the cravat?: Yes, I did!   
  
What colour was it?: Whiteyish.   
  
Where was it and where were you?: I was in the kitchen and so was the cravat.   
  
Were you drunk?: Yep, it was such a wild night!   
  
Have you any comments?: Yeah. Don't trust Grantaire.   
  
Why?: I'm not saying, but it involves Enjolras' waistcoat thing.   
  
You know that not giving evidence in court is an offence: Two things: 1: We're not in court, 2: I wouldn't care that much, to be honest.   
  
Interviewee 5   
  
Name?: Combeferre   
  
Address?: room 3, flat 2, rue de Fratarnite.   
  
What were doing on the night of the party?: Whatever ever Courfeyrac was doing.   
  
Did you see the Cravat at any time?: No...yes.   
  
Yes or no?: Sort of.   
  
That doesn't help.: Well, I saw two. One was red, the other was white.   
  
Was it possible that it was the same one?: Yeah, I think it might have been. Why did it change colour?   
  
I don't know. But if it was illegal, I'll nick the first person I see.: Ah. *silence*[DEL: :DEL]   
  
Don't tell anyone I said that, will you?[DEL: : What's it worth? :DEL] [DEL: :DEL]   
  
Um... ten francs? [DEL: : 15. :DEL] [DEL: :DEL]   
  
12 [DEL: : 15 :DEL] [DEL: :DEL]   
  
13?[DEL: : 14 :DEL] [DEL: :DEL]   
  
Deal.[DEL: : Okay. :DEL]  
  
*more silence*[DEL: :DEL]   
  
You can go now.[DEL: : Okay. :DEL]   
  
(Self Note. The above conversation ruled out DID NOT happen. I am not a briber. Bribery is an offence, which is highly punishable. I DO NOT COMMIT OFFENCES. I AM JAVERT. I NEVER BRIBE.)  
  
Interviewee 6   
  
Name?: Grantaire   
  
Address?: 2, Rue de Vin. I love that place.   
  
What were you doing on the night of the party?: Don't remember.   
  
Did you see the cravat?: Oh, my head! Sorry, I've still got a hangover from last night... I don't think I saw it...I don't remember.   
  
Were you drunk?: *silence* Do you know who I am? Have you forgotten? GRANTAIRE. Drinker extraordinaire! Drunk? Oh pur-leeeze! That's the only thing I do remember!   
  
Well. You're not much use to me then.: Oh don't talk like that! I get enough of that from Enjolras...*sniff*  
  
Interviewee 7   
  
Name?: Courfeyrac   
  
Address?: room 2, flat 2, Rue de Fraternite.   
  
What were you doing on the night of the party?: Eyein' up the gals.   
  
Did you see the cravat?: Believe me, that night I saw a LOT of clothes...   
  
But did you see THE cravat?: I told you, I saw lots of them!   
  
Did you see a pink one?: A PINK CRAVAT??!! Hah hah hah hah hah! What kind of a jerk would wear a pink cravat?   
  
But did you see it?: Come to think of it... yes.   
  
Where were you?: In a bedroom. Heh heh heh...   
  
I don't want to know.: You're right. You don't.   
  
So you were drunk?: Hell yeah! Everyone was! Except for Enjolras.   
  
The man with the carbine?: Yep that's him.   
  
Was he shooting birds?: uh huh. Straight out of the window.   
  
Hmmm. Isn't his name Sid?: Sid? I wish! Think of the jokes I could crack...!   
  
Thank you.: No, thank you! Sid...heh heh heh...  
  
Chapter 3 : 40° washes.  
  
"Courfeyrac, you grass!" Enjolras snapped later that day once Javert had gone. "He wasn't to know my name!"  
  
Courfeyrac looked innocently back. "I'm sorry, but how was I supposed to know that you changed your name to Sid, oh brave, valiant leader. Our Noble Leader... Monsieur Sid!" Enjolras glared around at the laughing students before sitting in a corner and staring at a wall.  
  
"So what did Javert say?" Prouvaire asked Marius.  
  
"I think he thought that it was all a bit ridiculous..." Marius mumbled.  
  
Prouvaire glanced at the others. "No!"  
  
"Get out of here!"  
  
"Really? How dare he!"  
  
"Yeah, would you believe it! I don't think he thought that it was serious. I don't think he took me seriously either," he sniffed, " but it is! Somebody did this on purpose! Someone's got it in for me, I'm telling you!"  
  
"Well I'm sure Monsieur l'Inspector will get to the bottom of it." Feuilly said comfortingly in a sing-song voice, only just stopping himself from bursting out into laughter.  
  
Meanwhile, Javert had been banging his head on his desk, cursing 'Students and their unfathomable stupidity'. He would have cursed the prefect too, for giving him such a stupid case, but he forbid himself to ever speak wrong of his superiors. He stared at the plastic bag containing the Crimson Cravat. He then pulled the book of interviews towards him and idly reread them, his chin resting on the table.   
  
'Don't trust Grantaire,' Prouvaire had said. What was that supposed to mean? Maybe he should just arrest them all. Including the 'victim'. Is the victim Marius or The Cravat? Obviously The Cravat. Marius is just the Third-Party. 'It involves Enjolras's waistcoat'... wait a minute! The waistcoat was red... red and white makes pink...as in hot pink...as in Crimson Cravat pink! A red waistcoat and a white cravat in a 40° wash! Grantaire had put them in together while he was deliriously drunk! Enjolras must have been in it too... you don't lose the waistcoat you have on your body without noticing... and he was shooting innocent blackbirds with an illegal firearm! Javert leaped up with a very undignified 'Aha!', before picking up his dignity from where he left it, straightening out his coat and heading back to Marius and Enjolras's place. Which was he going to arrest? Prouvaire, for not saying what he was going to find out later? Grantaire, for doing the evil deed? He was going  
to get Enjolras anyway. Ah, what the heck. Handcuffs on all three. Maybe he should nick a couple more just for good measure...  
  
"You in the apartment listen to this! No one is coming to help you to fight. You're on your own... give up the criminals or die!" Javert boomed from outside Marius and Enjolras's door.  
  
"Hmm..." Joly rubbed his chin. "I'm sure I've heard something like that before..."  
  
Moved by some peculiar inner instinct, Enjolras dived to the door and leant heavily on it, trying to prevent anyone from opening it. "Damn their warning damn their li-- HEY!" He had been leaning against the door, thinking that it opened inwards. Unfortunately for him but fortunately for Javert, the door opened outwards and the door flew open. Enjolras landed at Javert's feet. Enjolras gulped and stared at the impeccably polished boots in front of his nose. He looked slowly up to Javert, smiling weakly.  
  
Javert grinned evilly. "You're nicked, sonny."  
  
Chapter 4 : Arrested  
  
"Well, this is just great." Snapped Prouvaire as he squirmed in his seat, trying to release his hands from the handcuffs. "I don't even know why I'm arrested." He stood up and moved to the door. He started banging his head on it to try and attract attention to him. "Hey! I want to see my lawyers!"  
  
Enjolras, who was also in the cell along with Grantaire, laughed. "And who would they be?"  
  
"Bahorel and Bossuet."  
  
"Oh, you can't be serious. They couldn't defend themselves out of a paper bag." Enjolras sneered. "It's Courfeyrac that bugs me. He'll be the one needing the lawyer when I'm finished with him."  
  
"How was he supposed to know that you had changed your name?" Hiccoughed Grantaire from the corner, who was trying to drink a mini bottle of gin without using his hands. "He's not psychic, you know."  
  
"Shut up, you." Enjolras snarled. "And while we're at it, how did you get that alcohol here?"  
  
"I stole it from Marius's minibar and it's been in my pocket since the party." Grantaire knocked the bottle to the floor by accident. "Noooooo!" it smashed and splintered into a thousand pieces in a pool of bold smelling alcohol. "Damn. That was all I had..."  
  
Chapter 5 : Eponine  
  
Eponine sighed as she meandered through the well-known passages of the Parisian jail. What was this, the -- she counted the times off on her fingers -- seventh time she'd had to come and bail out her mum and dad from jail? Finally, she got to the short term cells. It was nothing out of the ordinary, until...  
  
"Monsieur Prouvaire?" Eponine gasped as she recognized the figure skulking near a cell's door.  
  
Jean Prouvaire looked up sharply as he heard someone -- distinctly feminine -- call his voice. He looked up not recoognizing the gaunt girl before him.  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
"I'm one of Marius' friends..." she moved into the light and Prouvaire recognized her... sort of.  
  
"Oh! You! Um... Epomime?"  
  
"No, Eponine!" She moved closer to the cell. "W-what are you doing in there?"  
  
"Gah... it's all Marius' fault!" Prouvaire hmpfed, despite Eponine's aghast look. "He got all paranoid about some clothing mishap..." Prouvaire threw up his hands as best as he could, seeing that he was handcuffed an' all. "He got Javvie on the case and here I am. In fact, Enjolras and Grantaire's here too."  
  
Eponine peered into the gloom and made out the dull figures. "Ah." She giggled a bit. "I must say, you're the last person I'd have thought to be in jail."  
  
"What, goody-goody romantic Prouvaire?" Grantaire snickered from the darkness. Jehan threw him an evil look. "Sharrup, R. Lick up the drink on the floor, or something."  
  
"Why didn't I think of that...?"  
  
"Listen, Eponine. You gotta help us!" Jehan pleaded. "Whatever I'm in here for, I'll give you my word that I'm innocent!"  
  
"Oh please, I don't believe your conscious is that clear!" Enjolras laughed.  
  
"You'd be surprised... oh Grantaire! I didn't mean what I said!" Jehan nudged Grantaire who was bent over the puddle of alcohol, and sent him sprawling.  
  
"You disgust me." Enjolras sniffed. "Please get us out, Eponine."  
  
"What will you do for me in return?" Eponine asked coyly.  
  
"Anything!" Jehan and Enjolras said simultaneously.  
  
"Oh good..." she grinned.   
  
Who dyed the cravat crimson? Will Javert ever find out? Will justice and lawfulness prevail? Will Courfeyrac escape from Enjolras? Will Grantaire find some more gin? Will Bahoral and Lesgle help Prouvaire and the others? What does Eponine want in return of helping Enjolras, Jehan and R? Will Marius ever stop being such a poofy-haired baby? Find out in our next thrilling installment of... The Case Of The Crimson Cravat!!! 


	2. Part 2

Title: The Case of the Crimson Cravat, Part 2  
  
Author: Lance  
  
Summary: A continuation of part 1. The students escape, but Javert's still on their tail.  
  
Rating: G  
  
Feedback: Comments, criticism, delivery pizza, spam and small furry animals to be emailed to me at lance_sirron@hotmail.com . Actually, I could do without the spam but the pizza sounds nice. Alternatively, you could just review me. (  
  
*  
  
The Case Of The Crimson Cravat,  
  
Part 2  
  
By Lance  
  
   
  
Chapter 1 : The Morning After The Night Before"The humiliation…the degradation… the mortification… the embarrassment…" Jehan listed as many adjectives as he could think of that described his present state.  
  
"Shut it! You're getting out, aren't you?" Eponine hissed. She had clearly had enough of the three school boys that were so hard to please.  
  
"If we're going to get out, I'd prefer to do it legally…" Enjolras started. "Legal as in sueing Javert for an unnecessary arrest."  
  
Eponine couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You'd what? You'd prefer to get out legally? Since when did you get so fussy over doing stuff legally? I suppose planning to overthrow the government isn't? I suppose treason is perfectly legal!"  
  
"How do you know about our plans?"  
  
"Oh, come on, it's kinda obvious, the whole red waistcoat thing."  
  
Enjolras opened and closed his mouth a few times, before muttering something indecipherable.  
  
"What was that, monsieur?"  
  
"Nothing, mademoiselle. Nothing."  
  
    Eponine just had to laugh. It wasn't very often that she smuggled revolutionary students out of police cells dressed as woman… and what scared her was the fact that she hadn't heard Grantaire complaining yet.  
  
The policeman on duty wasn't very bright. How he got into the force was beyond anyone, but people kept him around as someone to blame all the bad things on. Still, he didn't mind. He leaned back in his chair and twiddled his thumbs merrily, humming a little tune. He had noticed the small thin teenager who had asked to see her parents, and he had granted her permission. One thing he hadn't noticed about her, though, was the sly hand that had stolen the visitor sheet on which the policeman on duty was to write who visited who in the cells.  
  
And now, she walked back. He frowned. Wait a second… surely the other three hadn't come with her? He'd never seen them before. The small thin brunette smiled cheerfully as she passed on her way out. "Thank-you, officer."  
  
"Hang on a moment!" The officer on duty stood up. "I only remember you going in…" he pointed at Eponine. "… these three I've never seen before in my life."  
  
Grantaire fluttered his false eyelashes. "Oooh, officer! You don't remember li'l ol' me?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Are you suuuuuure?" Grantaire flashed him a dazzling smile in what he hoped was a very feminine manner.  
  
"…no…" the duty officer repeated nervously. "Wait a minute, let me check my list…" he scrabbled about on the desk, searching for the yellow hued sheet. "Where on earth did I put it…? Gah, it must be here somewhere…!" he ducked underneath desk to search the piles of papers stacked on the floor.  
  
Quick as a flash, Eponine grabbed Enjolras and Jehan's arm and pushed them out of the door. She had assumed that Grantaire would follow, but at that present moment, he was engaged in helping the duty officer to look for the visitor sheet the Eponine herself had stolen to procure the students' escape. She grabbed him by the belt and dragged him out of the door, stifling his cry with a hand.  
  
Chapter 2: A couple of hours later during the morning after the night before.  
  
    While Enjolras, Grantaire and Jehan had been sweating it out in prison, the rest of the students had been camping in Marius' front room. It was about four in the morning, and everyone was sleeping, until there was the sound of multiple hammering on the front door.  
  
"Marius… your door is… um… shouting to be let in…" Feuilly murmured sleepily.  
  
"Well let it in, duh-brain."  
  
Feuilly stood up and walked to the door. He opened it, looked outside, and closed it again. "It's a group of prostitutes." He concluded.  
  
"Courfeyrac!" Marius snapped angrily, throwing a shoe at the sleeping form half-on half-off the sofa.  
  
"What? I didn't do anything!" he yelped as he fell off. Marius shook his head in an exasperated way and opened the door to see for himself. Courfeyrac got up and peered over Marius' shoulder.   
  
Marius laughed loudly. "Why, hello ladies. What can we do for you?"  
  
Enjolras and Jehan were not in the mood for jokes. "Marius, if you don't let us in this minute I will pull every poofy hair out of your head with chopsticks." Jehan growled in a very un-Jehan-like way.  
  
Grantaire sniggered. "I'd watch it, Marius, in his present mood he'll do it."    
  
"Well, that wasn't very poetic." commented Courfeyrac as the escaped prisoners and Eponine trooped in. Eponine smiled shyly at Marius, but frowned slightly when she noticed a framed painting of Cosette on a nearby desk.  
  
***  
  
    "Wow. You guys are wanted criminals!" concluded Combeferre after Enjolras had retold the tale.  
  
"No, we're not. It's all just one big mistake. I didn't do a thing! I'm innocent!"Jehan cried. "I was wrongfully imprisoned!"  
  
"We all were." Enjolras added firmly.  
  
"But what can we do?" Grantaire wondered.  
  
"Look at it like this. There's no proof that it was Enjolras' waistcoat. And even if it was, it might not have been Enjolras' fault. And monsieur Prouvaire, if you knew something, surely you'd say?" Eponine piped up.  
  
"Eponine? You're still here?" Prouvaire blinked.  
  
"Oh, thanks. I just saved your butts and all I get is a 'you're still here?' Well, gee, that makes me feel special." Eponine sat back in her seat and crossed her arms accross her chest.  
  
"She's right about you three, though." Joly pointed out.  
  
"Of course I'm right..."  
  
Joly carried on. "There's no actual evidence, apart from that little book of Javert's, that Enjolras is at fault. But all that says is that Prouvaire might know something about that blasted cravat."  
  
"Huh, if you ask me it's just a load of fuss about a piece of material." muttered Feuilly darkly.  
  
"You're right, but it was MY piece of flimsy material! Nobody insults me like that!" cried Marius, getting all huffy.  
  
Joly scowled. He was being thoroughly ignored. "Did anyone hear me? I said there's no evidence apart from that little book!"  
  
"Marius, it's just a cravat!" Combeferre sighed.  
  
"Correction: MY cravat! There's obviously someone out there who thinks that he or she can just go and dye my all my clothing pink!"  
  
"Marius -"  
  
"I SAID..."  
  
"It's just the ethic of the whole thing: I'm letting a 'phantom dyer' walk all over me!"  
  
"I said, THERE'S NO EVIDENCE EXCEPT - - "  
  
"Marius, get a grip!"  
  
"No, it's not fair that I'm -"  
  
"WON'T ANYONE LISTEN TO ME?" Joly shouted, standing up and waving his arms about frantically.  
  
"I was listening." said Eponine quietly.  
  
"So was I." added Grantaire.  
  
"What is it, Joly?" asked Enjolras irritably.  
  
"Need I spell it out? As I've said several times, there's no evidence except that little book." Joly said slowly, with Eponine and Grantaire joining in the chanting at the end. The rest looked at him blankly.   
  
"...So...?" Courfeyrac said.  
  
Joly slapped his forehead. "Gah! For God's sake, just get rid of the little book and Javert won't have anything to accuse you with!"  
  
There was a moment's silence until realisation sank slowly in.  
  
"Oooooooooh..." Marius sat slowly back in his chair with a far-off look in his eyes.  
  
"Are you saying that we steal the book?" said Combeferre.  
  
"Steal it, burn it, eat it, shoot it, rip it... it doesn't matter. Just destroy it!" Joly laughed, a bit maniacally.  
  
"... Joly, remember your blood pressure..." reminded Bossuet. Joly sat down hurriedly and took his pulse.  
  
"I don't think that's a good idea..." started Eponine.  
  
"Oh, hush up Eponine. Who asked your opinion, anyway?" Enjolras waved a hand dismissivly at her.  
  
Eponine's eyebrows shot up as she glared ferociously. "Well. I can see when I'm not wanted." she stood up and let herself out of the door without another word.   
  
"Another fine example of why our fearless leader hasn't had any for quite a while - - " laughed Courfeyrac.   
  
Enjolras shot him a sub-zero glare. He was about to speak but was interrupted as Eponine burst back through the door. She was pale and panting heavily. "Police... outside... want to search... apartment... got to get out...!" she panted as she ran and hid behind Enjolras.  
  
Grantaire peered behind the Enjolras at Eponine. "Whuh?"  
  
Bossuet got up, crossed the room and glanced out of the window. "She's right. There's a bunch of policemen outside." he turned back to the others. "What are you going to do?"  
  
"What are 'you'...? You mean: What are WE going to do! You've all got to help us out!" Enjolras snapped.  
  
"But what can we do?" Joly said worriedly.  
  
"Let's start in getting out of here, shall we?" Comebferre suggested quickly.  
  
"How?"  
  
"Door, per chance?"  
  
"Oh, don't be stupid, what are we going to do after that? Stand in the corridor and blend in with the walls? The police men are outside the front door to the building!"  
  
"Good point..." Combeferre agreed. "Well... let's go and hide in someone else's apartment!" He scowled in the silence that followed his suggestion. "Well, it's either that or we go out of the window and freefall for several stories."  
  
"What are we hanging about for then? Let's go already!" Eponine cried.  
  
Chapter 3: The Storming Of The Building (also named: "The Everlasting Stupidity of Modern Day Scholars.")  
  
    Despite his momentary anger of having his prisoners escape him, Javert was soon back in action. Having rounded up a squad of other policemen, Javert was outside the building in which he was sure the students were in. Would they be so stupid as to return to the hole from which they crawled from? he though to himself. Yep. He mentally nodded. He turned to the officer beside him and jerked his head towards the door. "You there, knock on the door and -"  
  
The policeman needed no further instructions. He leaped up the small flight of steps and swiftly kicked down the door.  
  
" - ask to be let in." Javert finished. He inclined his head to one side and nodded. "Good idea, sir. I'll see an officer made out of you yet. Come on you group of layabouts, get inside the house and find those escapees."  
  
***  
  
    Upon reaching the door to Enjolras and Marius' flat, Javert allowed himself a thin smile. He knew those law-breakers were about... and if the escaped prisoners weren't in there with their evil cohorts, then he'll arrest the evil cohorts anyhow. It was a lot more fun if you won the game both ways.  
  
***  
  
    "Okay, this place has got the two main things I don't like. Dark, and a bad smell." Prouvaire's voice could be heard echoing in the inky darkness. The students and the gamine had taken refuge in an empty, dark, cold garret at the top of the building. The windows were so grimy that not a thred of light could filter through.  
  
"Relax, Jehan. The dark can't hurt you..." Combeferre treid comforting Jehan.  
  
Bossuet peered at Joly, just making him out in the gloom. "Joly what's that over your face?"  
  
"It'sh mah hankie, bad shmellsh mide cahry tha plague!"  
  
*CRASH*  
  
"Ow! Goddamnit!" Courfeyrac's voice seemed to come from somewhere on the floor, after tripping over something large and ungainly. "Why can't we light a lamp?" he snapped bad temperdly.  
  
"Will everyone be quiet! I can hear people coming!" Enjolras hissed as the sounds of haevy boots could be heard pounding up the stairs.  
  
Everyone froze.  
  
"I think they're coming up here!" Feuilly whispered fearfully as the footsteps got closer.  
  
To be continued… 


End file.
